


fly me to the moon.

by rushie



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:45:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rushie/pseuds/rushie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny is in DC for a few days, and he can't resist dropping in to visit Beech Hill--and, of course, to talk with Henrik. Slight AU at the end to set up for a potential fic that I may never get around to writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fly me to the moon.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jmandrake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmandrake/gifts).



> I wrote this for Chelsea's birthday, because my drawing skills are minimal at best and it snuck up on me too quickly to actually write that really long Strange Magic/Nancy Drew crossover.

Beech Hill looked almost exactly as Sonny remembered. The potted plants in the lobby had been replaced—what had once been ferns were now something that flowered garishly pink—and a few more names had been added to the donors list beside Joanna’s office door. The thing that was the most different, however, was that this time, the museum was full of people. A young intern waited behind the lobby desk, hanging out headphones and brochures for the tour. She glanced up as Sonny entered, then did a double take, and Sonny hesitated by the door, ready to bolt.

He glanced around behind the purple rims of his glasses, expecting to see a sign bearing his picture. DO NOT GRANT ADMITTANCE, he was sure it would say, flagrantly capitalized and more than a little over-reactive. However, he didn’t spot a poster, and when no security guards with suits and Bluetooth stepped up to escort him from the building, he thought he might be safe. He smiled brightly at the girl, accepted his headphones, and fell in with the tour group.

Sonny was not one for bouts of nostalgia. He had been picking up and moving on to new corners of the world for so long that it felt strange to be back on familiar ground. But the hunt for information had brought him back to DC, and though he had tried to ignore the pull of his former place of employment, this morning he had found his feet carrying him down familiar streets until he’d been right in front of the doors. On instinct, he’d felt for the keys in his pocket, but of course Joanna had confiscated his when he’d been fired, and Sonny hadn’t thought to have a spare set made for himself. He should have—the frequency with which he lost keys was alarming—but hindsight was twenty-twenty, as they say.

“And over here,” began the intern leading the tour, “we have a jade carving of _King Pacal_.”

Sonny nearly had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the hysterical laughter that threatened to erupt from his mouth. He couldn’t, however, suppress a slightly unbalanced grin from spreading across his face. The girl sounded so much like a recording of Joanna that Sonny almost expected her to pull off a mask and reveal herself to be the museum curator after all. Maybe she would even send them off after the tour with a parting declaration of, “ _Semper ubi sub ubi!_ ”

He moved with the group between the glass cases, peeking in to see what had been moved and what hadn’t. Everything looked almost the same as he remembered, but that might have been his imagination. He admittedly hadn’t spent much time studying the exhibits.

He lagged in the back of the group as they approached the pyramid. He wasn’t here to sightsee. He was just here to get a date for lunch.

The tour guide didn’t notice when he slipped off to the side and headed into the Employees Only hallway. He was whistling when he entered the office and found Henrik sitting exactly where he had expected to see him: sitting behind his table, brush in hand and surgical mask over his mouth and nose. Sonny leaned on the doorframe and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Think you can play hooky for an hour or two for a lunch date with an old friend?”

Henrik looked up from the piece of pottery in his hand, and his eyes widened. “Sonny Joon, as I live and breathe.”

Sonny prepared himself for the inevitable—a scolding (because what was he doing back here when he didn’t work here anymore), a refusal (like Henrik _ever_ took a lunch break), a scathing remark (since _when_ were they “old friends”?), and a quick trip out the door courtesy of museum security. What he didn’t expect was for Henrik to put down his brush and for his eyes to crinkle in what was clearly a smile. 

“I believe I could spare a bit of time.”

 

* * *

 

 

They took their lunch in a café around the corner. Henrik had some kind of coffee drink that Sonny couldn’t pronounce; Sonny himself drank herbal tea. Henrik was different than Sonny remembered; he suspected it was the result of Henrik tumbling down the pyramid steps and losing his memory.

“And what of you?” Henrik asked, studying Sonny shrewdly over his coffee cup. “How goes your hunt for the Anunnaki?”

Sonny pressed the tips of his fingers together. “I _think_ I’m almost there.” He looked over the tops of his hands at Henrik without really seeing him. He was lost in the idea of the chase. “All of the pieces I’ve been pulling together for the past few months—the past few _years_ —are finally coming together. I can _almost_ see the end of the puzzle.”

“Do you think you’ll find them?” Henrik’s voice was soft, but it cut through Sonny’s mind like a knife.

“I _know_ I’ll find them, Henrik,” he replied. He shook his head, leaned back in his chair. “I know you think I’m just—just blowing smoke or making it all up, but this is _real_.” He slapped his hand down on the table. “My grandfather wouldn’t have lied.” His voice shook with emotion, and he breathed deeply for several minutes to steady himself.

“I…” Henrik began. He hesitated, then took a sip of his coffee as if to fortify himself. “I do not believe that you’re making it all up.”

Sonny’s head snapped up so quickly that his glasses fell off. They dangled from one ear; he let them. “ _Henrik!_ ” he cried, jubilant. “You believe me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Henrik said quickly. “But I know enough of you, Sonny, to know that you believe that you’re saying. I might find this all a bit…far-fetched, but it’s become clear to me that you aren’t just saying these things to see what foolhardy person you can convince to drink your Kool-Aid. And, that being said, I could be persuaded to help decipher whatever that nonsense was that you used to shove under my nose so often.”

Sonny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had spent _ages_ trying to convince Henrik of the Anunnaki, trying to get Henrik to transcribe mysterious symbols for him. There were so many things he _still_ hadn’t been able to decipher, but he knew that Henrik would figure them out. “Henrik,” he said hoarsely, “I could kiss you.”

“Yes, well, please do not,” Henrik replied gruffly. He cleared his throat. “And fix your glasses, for God’s sake, you look like a fool.”

Sonny did as he was told, a sly smile creeping across his face. “You might not believe _now_ , Henrik, but trust me—you will.”

“Mmm.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, Sonny leaning back in his chair and basking in his triumph, Henrik sipping the last of his coffee and attempting to look curmudgeonly. But he softened a bit every time Sonny flashed a wide smile at him, and he was fooling no one. Not for the first time, Sonny wished he could read minds. He was good at knowing what people were thinking most of the time, but Henrik was an enigma that had always had him stumped. He felt as if Henrik was a big softie just hiding behind a grumpy exoskeleton, but sometimes it just seemed like Henrik was all exoskeleton and no softness. Sonny couldn’t figure him out, and that bugged him. He could figure everyone out.

Henrik cleared his throat. “If you’re done _preening_ , I should get myself back to my lab.” However, he made no immediate move to get up. “How long are you in DC?” 

“Just a few more days,” Sonny replied absentmindedly. He was thinking ahead, of the plans he had told Henrik he had, of the puzzle pieces sliding into place. “Say, Henrik,” he began, as the older man stood up from the table. “What would you say if I asked you to go to New Zealand?”


End file.
